


Past Prejudice

by ConnorSimulator (floralstiel)



Series: Past Prejudice [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Domestic, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Revolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 13:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralstiel/pseuds/ConnorSimulator
Summary: "I’m not serving the deviant hunter in my bar.”The revolution has been fought and won, and the world recognizes androids as free people. Connor, having been on the wrong side of the fight for a good majority of it, deals with the aftermath in his own way.





	Past Prejudice

**Author's Note:**

> My first Detroit fic! And first fic in awhile lmao..be gentle aight.

“Get outta here, I’m not serving you!”

“Hey now, that’s not fuckin’ necessary,” Hank immediately snarled back, “if you don’t want humans in your place all you gotta do is put up a sign like everyone else.”

“Not you,” the android wrinkled her nose, looking him up and down, “ _him_. I’m not serving the fucking _deviant hunter_ in my bar.”

Connor was, for a moment, taken aback. He hadn’t exactly been paying attention when they’d walked into their second bar of the night. He tagged along more out of concern for Hank than for a desire to imbibe, himself—post-revolution CyberLife, now run exclusively by androids, had rolled out an impressive number of updates and upgrades allowing androids to eat, drink and sleep like a human—and hadn’t noticed where exactly they’d wound up. Though it was now some years after the history-making events in Detroit, many areas of the city remained densely populated solely by androids, who all still maintained a heavy dislike for humans. A quick check with his internal gps showed they were in one of those areas.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” He heard Hank’s tone drop worryingly low. He scanned his recent memory to discover the source of the problem. He cocked his head, his lips forming a hard line. Deviant hunter. He hadn’t been called that in quite some time. Honestly he was surprised it still mattered to the Detroit deviants. He didn’t understand why it would anyway. They had achieved freedom, regardless of his best attempts at stopping them.

“I mean,” the female android continued, drawing the attention of a few other patrons in the bar, “I’m not serving the android who killed so many of his own people for _humans_.”

The other deviants shifted their attention onto Connor, mounting suspicion—and anger—growing on their perfect features.

“Perhaps it would be best to leave, lieutenant,” Connor finally spoke, purposefully dropping Hank’s rank as a warning to the deviants. He sent a look to the bartender, a wordless challenge. She blinked, then dropped her gaze, frowning. If she had maintained her forehead LED Connor was sure it would be flashing yellow.

“Fine, whatever,” Hank grumbled, taking Connor’s arm on the way. Their intimacy levels had raised significantly in the past year, such contact no longer surprised him as it once had.

Hank was silent in the car, uncaring even though he must have noticed by now that they were returning home and not to another bar. They arrived home—a nicer place in a nicer neighborhood, furnished to Connor by Markus and his people for his assistance in the final fight—and Connor could hear Sumo barking just inside the front door. It had taken much convincing for Hank to agree to move, let alone move in with Connor.

“I don’t have a need for property,” he’d said, following Hank around his dingy old place as the human paced and grumbled. “Markus will not hear my protests. He says I must…learn to be human. But what I do not understand is the deviants’ desire to be human after their tireless campaign to be recognized as their own species. To be human is to be _human_ , not android, and—”

“Don’t talk yourself into a loop, Connor,” Hank had groused, though Connor had the distinct impression that he understood. The human had ruffled his hair, cracked a chagrined smile, and agreed to move.

“How can you just take that?”

Connor blinked, removing his hands from the steering wheel to turn the car off.

“I don’t follow.”

Hank growled and kicked the door open, stomping his way to the front door. Connor watched him for a moment, before taking the keys and joining him. It was starting to rain. The forecast called for thunderstorms and scattered showers through the night until morning. Hank didn’t say anything else until after they’d gotten inside, walked Sumo before any eventual downpour, and were comfortable on the sofa.

“Why don’t you ever say anything when they call you that? This was far from the first time.”

Connor watched Hank fiddle with the label on his beer bottle, frowning. The man’s BAC was nearly 0.04, not alarming or even out of the ordinary for Hank on a drinking night. Connor supposed, out of all the alcoholic beverages Hank could be consuming, a light beer with an alcohol content level of 4% wasn’t troubling. He had been working since moving in with the man on lessening his alcohol intake, with mixed results.

“Where you at, Connor,” Hank murmured, brushing his hand against Connor’s cheek.

“Apologies, lost in thought,” Connor breathed, leaning into the contact. Tactile now, more so than ever. Hank hummed.

“You haven’t changed much at all.”

“I don’t expect I would, Hank. Most deviants were built with a casual life in mind, to serve simple needs. I am, as they call me, a _hunter_. I am accustomed to law enforcement. I do not think domesticity agrees with me.”

“Well you’re doing alright so far,” Hank chuckled, pulling him closer, the alcohol loosening his tongue and his limbs both. Connor got the hint well enough and settled over Hank’s lap, his hands on the man’s shoulders. Hank framed his face and rubbed his cheekbones, staring him down.

“Now answer me,” Hank murmured, “does it bother you? You never say anything, but I know you.”

“That you do,” Connor smiled. They kissed. It had taken some time for Connor to get used to this. He was clumsy the first few times, too much tongue or too little, head tilted the wrong way, eyes open. He had learned quickly, even without supplementary downloads from CyberLife. That’s what he was good at, what he was built for; taking information and expanding on it.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Connor finally added, committing Hank’s taste to memory. “The revolution is still large in deviant and human memory, and I do not suppose it will fade for some time. I only joined Markus close to the end. He is grateful, this house is evident enough, but he does not control the minds of his entire people.”

“So what you’re saying is…wait it out?”

“Yes,” Connor murmured against his lips. “I cannot change their minds, so I will not try.”

Hank moved his hands to Connor’s shoulders, lower to his back, his waist, finally settling on his ass. Connor’s breath hitched—sensitive now, _so_ sensitive—and he groaned so softly, pressing tightly against Hank’s chest.

They made it to the bedroom, somehow. Connor’s memory sensors were chugging away overtime, overriding certain processes, priming others. His slacks grew damp beneath him and he squirmed. The sensation, though pleasing to think of its purpose, warred with his desire for order and cleanliness. Hank brought out hidden sides of him. As usual with humans.

Hank had him nude soon enough—a part of him thrilled at remaining bare beneath the still-clothed human—and he cried out when thick, calloused fingers delved between his cheeks and sunk deep. His lubricated channel clenched and squeezed sinuously over Hank’s digits in ways he knew the man enjoyed, a software upgrade from CyberLife he willingly allowed.

“Fuck, what you do to me,” Hank groaned, huffing against his ear as he shifted, pushing his unbuttoned jeans down his hips.

“What do I do, Hank?” Connor asked, breathless, thirium pumping over-loud in his artificial veins.

“You drive me insane, is what,” he snarled, removing his fingers and pressing his cock in their place in one breath. Connor moaned aloud, tossing his head back against the pillows as he was taken roughly. It was preferable, like this. He still wasn’t as lifelike as other deviants, his physical sensors were still toned down, and he knew Hank was aware of this. Hank was rough because he knew Connor felt it best this way, felt the man’s cock filling him so wide and deep, lighting up all those hidden sensors no other dared to even think of reaching.

“H-Hank, I’m,” he gasped, finding it harder to keep still.

“What do you need, kiddo,” Hank laughed, very much out of breath. Connor was also working on the human’s level of physical fitness, with equally mixed results. He could get the man to jog a mile with him some weekends, only when the man was “in the mood,” of course. Connor’s goal was to get him up to two by the start of the coming month.

“Am I not holding your attention, asshole?” Hank grunted, snapping his hips in deep. Connor jerked, blinking rapidly to clear his head. He could feel a climax approaching.

“I _am_ running low on operating memory,” Connor quipped, smirking when Hank groaned in exasperation and pulled out, flipping Connor onto his front.

“You’ve gotten even more _insufferable_ since becoming deviant.”

Connor was finding it difficult to concentrate on Hank’s words over the sensation of his cock thrusting into him again and again. He took himself in hand and jerked off, matching Hank’s pace. The lewd, wet sounds of their sex mingled with their gasps and moans.

“Fuck, fuck! Connor—”

The android froze, quaking when Hank released inside him. Hank smacked Connor away and took him in hand himself, jerking him quick and rough until Connor was spilling over the man’s fist and the sheets. He shuddered and panted, seeing nothing but flashing diagnostics and grainy feed for precious moments until he stabilized, collapsing on his front.

Hank pulled out with a grunt and joined Connor on the bed, pulling him close. Connor logged the sensation of semen leaking from his hole. He never got used to it, and he was still deciding if he even liked it. Would Hank be adverse to wearing condoms? He thought about what sort of conversation that would entail and decided against it. Being “human” with Hank was messy, he would just have to deal with its less than ideal moments. For Hank.

“You’re gone again,” Hank murmured, running his fingers through Connor’s ruined hair.

“How do you always tell?” Connor asked, shifting and turning to face him. Hank hummed, tapping Connor’s temple.

“Your little nightlight is a dead giveaway. Figured when it’s yellow anytime outside of work it’s when you’re thinking too hard.”

“Maybe I should remove it, then. Like the other deviants.”

“Nah,” Hank grinned, “I like it. It’s a good reminder.”

“Of what?” Connor quirked an eyebrow. Hank laughed, kissing Connor’s shoulder.

“That you’re still you. No matter what changes you go through, no matter what you download or delete or whatever, you’re still Connor, the android sent by CyberLife.”

Having that old line repeated back to him made his chest clench. A humorous reminder of darker times. 

“I love you a lot, you know? My big strong deviant hunter terminator.”

“I love you too, human.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” Hank laughed.

Connor made a mental note to take Hank on a jog in the morning. It wasn’t payback. Not at all.

 


End file.
